War will Make Corpses of us All
by Ariadne394
Summary: A story about the nameless man Faramir shoots and wonders about in The Two Towers movie just before he meets Frodo and Sam.


** In The Two Towers extended edition DVD, Captain Faramir and fellow Gondorians sabotage a troop of fighters heading towards Mordor to join Sauron's army for the great battle. Shortly afterwards, they come upon Frodo and Sam, and one of the men Faramir shot dead. Faramir turns him over so he can see his face and wonders "The enemy? His sense of duty was no less than yours, I deem. You wonder what his name is, where he comes from, and if he really was evil at heart. What lies or threats led him on this long march from home, and would he not rather have stayed there... in peace? War will make corpses of us all."**

** This quote particularly struck me, and I wondered about this nameless man as well. This is my attempt at an answer. It is my first fanfic-type story, so I hope you enjoy it. Any constructive criticism is very much appreciated.**

**_-_I do not own _The Lord of the Rings_ or anything from that series which appears in this story. All other characters are my own invention.-**

I remember the day they came. It would be impossible not to, as their coming would lead to my death.

I was in the stables that crisp afternoon in early September, trying to calm a spirited black stallion we had captured the day before. Our people had always had a strange rapport with horses, and could communicate with them almost as well as the elves (not that any of their race ever condescended to visit our remote territory). Like every boy in our territory, I had learned to ride when I was but seven years old, nearly 3 decades ago. Since that time, no horse had ever resisted me... none but this seemingly untamable beast.

The proud beast was obviously young and skittish, but I could see the distinct sense of pride in the curve of his neck and the dark flash of his eyes. He reared up, his front hooves slashing at the thin air. I leapt back, my hands still grasping the leather rope that wrapped loosely around his neck.

"You're just making it harder for yourself," I told the stallion, my voice low and soothing. "There's no use fighting the inevitable. You'll be well-cared for, if I have anything to say about it."

He snorted, and I could see the hot air shooting out of his nostrils. However, the fire in his eyes dimmed somewhat. He seemed to yield to my words and tone and settled back on to all fours. He inclined his head to me, although his eyelids shielded his eyes as if to say _I yield to you only because I must. I shall tolerate you, but you will never be my true master._

I could put up with that.

"You're a constant little thing," I said, sensing a flash of recognition between us. "Headstrong. Not accepting of change that you yourself did not make. I can respect that. I can respect _you_."

He rolled his eyes at me and I grinned. I may not have many human friends, but at least the horses would always understand me.

"Darius, you're wanted in the hall."

My hand froze on the stallion's flank. I took a deep breath and forced my face into an expression I hoped didn't look like a painful grimace and turned to face my mother. She leaned against the open stable door, her arms crossed tightly across her robust chest. If it really were possible to stare daggers, I imagined that she would. I suspected that it took all her willpower to plant herself where she was so that she would not do something rash, like continue to berate me for _"wasting my time with horses when I should do something useful, like be a carpenter like my father was."_

My father. Nothing drove a wedge between family members like the untimely death of a dearly beloved father... especially when the mother bore the blame for the events which led to his death.

"What do they want?" I demanded brusquely. "They should be able to get on well enough without me as everyone seems to do." The nameless stallion sensed my discomfort and pawed at the ground, sending little swirls of dust up from the ground.

"_Darius,_" my mother pleaded, her voice reproaching me. "It's _urgent. _It's about..." but here she hesitated, her wrinkled face tightening in fear she never betrayed. "It's about _him._"

My mouth fell open, and for a moment I couldn't remember how to close it again. There was only one thing I could think of that could make my mother act like this, and I had been soundly assured that it was nothing more and nothing less than the stuff of fanciful myth invented by the wild men who wanted us obliterated. It couldn't possibly be _real_... could it?

"Darius..." my mother came forward into the stable and grasped my shoulders with a strong grip for one at her age. "If this is what I think it is, you must be very careful. They will pursue you relentlessly. Do not believe any of their promises, but rely on your own instincts."

I shook my head, more in confusion than denial. "But what _is_ this, exactly? No one has ever told me."

She sighed. "I believed this would not happen for many lifetimes, certainly not in _my_ lifetime. But I fear it is all coming to pass and there is nothing we can do to stop it. Darius, the prophecy is coming true."


End file.
